Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest-Chapter 508 115.6 - First Mission

Just as I finished examining the symbol, my smartwatch buzzed with an incoming call. I glanced at the screen, noting that it was Shanks. The timing was perfect, given the insights I had just gained.

I answered the call, keeping my voice steady. "Astron here."

"Adept Natusalune," Shanks' voice came through, as composed and direct as ever. "It's now 6 P.M. You're to return to the base. The meeting with the field Adepts will begin shortly, and I expect you to be ready."

I nodded, though he couldn't see it. "Understood. I'm wrapping up here and heading back now."

"Good. Don't be late." The call ended as abruptly as it began, leaving me standing in the narrow alley with the faint hum of the symbol's energy still lingering in the air.

I took a final look at the carving, memorizing the details before standing up. The investigation was starting to come together, the pieces falling into place, but there was still more to uncover. For now, though, it was time to regroup and share what I had found with the rest of the team.

As I made my way back through the bazaar, I decided to indulge in a small treat before returning to the base.

Street food was one of the simplest ways to get a feel for the local culture, and it had been a while since I'd taken a treat from the outside world.

I spotted a vendor selling skewers of grilled meat and vegetables, the scent wafting through the air and drawing my attention. The stand was modest, the grill sizzling with a variety of options, and the vendor was a middle-aged man with a friendly, if tired, smile. A small crowd had gathered around, each person eagerly awaiting their turn.

I joined the line, observing the interactions between the vendor and his customers. Despite the underlying tension in the city, there was still a sense of community here—people coming together over something as simple as a good meal.

It was a reminder that, even in the darkest times, life found a way to persist.

'Indeed….The hope never disappears, is it not?' Maybe or maybe not. For some, that was not the case.

When it was my turn, I ordered a couple of skewers, and the vendor handed them to me with a nod and a brief "Enjoy."

I took a bite as I continued walking, savoring the flavor and the warmth of the food. It was a small comfort, a moment of normalcy amidst the chaos. The meat was tender, seasoned just right, with a slight char that added depth to the taste. The vegetables were fresh, a bit of a rarity given the recent events, but they were grilled to perfection.

As I made my way back to the base, the streets around me began to shift, the vibrant activity of the day gradually giving way to the more subdued pace of the evening. The shadows were growing longer, the air cooling as the sun dipped lower in the sky. Veilcroft was a city of contrasts, its light and darkness in constant battle, much like the forces at work beneath the surface.

By the time I reached the base, I had finished the skewers, the taste lingering on my tongue as a reminder of the brief respite. The entrance loomed ahead, and with a nod to the woman at the front desk, I made my way back inside.

The halls were quieter now; the earlier hum of activity dimmed as people prepared for the evening meeting.

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While the things that I had learned could be deemed important, it was also important to note that I was just a newcomer who came here just now.

So, I intended to watch how they conducted their daily procedures a little bit to get a general idea of how things worked in the organization.

As I made my way through the quieter halls, I allowed myself to observe the surroundings with a keener eye.

As I approached the meeting room, I saw Elysia waiting just outside. She caught sight of me and gave a nod of acknowledgment, her expression as sharp and focused as ever.

"This way," she said, her voice direct but not unkind. She turned and led me to the door, opening it for me to enter.

I stepped into the room and immediately took in the scene. The core personnel were already assembled around a large table; their attention focused on various reports and data displayed on the monitors that lined the walls.

The air was thick with a mix of tension and anticipation, the kind that precedes a critical discussion.

In addition to the familiar faces of Shanks, Jim, Ren, and Nadia, there was another presence in the room—a woman with short, practical hair and a no-nonsense demeanor.

She was poring over a set of documents, her sharp eyes scanning each page with practiced efficiency. It didn't take long to recognize her from the reports I had studied earlier—this was Adept Lira Hensley, the first to arrive in Veilcroft and the one who had laid much of the groundwork for the investigation.

The woman, Lira, looked up as I entered, her gaze assessing me for a brief moment before she returned to her work. It was a quick, professional acknowledgment, and I could sense that she was fully focused on the task at hand.

Shanks, who was standing near the head of the table, glanced in my direction as I found a seat. He gave me a brief nod before turning back to the discussion that had been ongoing before my arrival.

"We'll begin the briefing shortly," Shanks said, addressing the room. "Everyone, finalize your reports and prepare to share your findings."

I settled into my chair, taking a moment to observe how the team operated. There was a clear hierarchy but also a sense of mutual respect among the members.

'Not bad. This state is most likely what the Academy also wants to achieve.' It was a clear and concise one.

Elysia took a seat next to Lira, and for a moment, the two exchanged a few quiet words. Whatever was said, it was brief, and both women quickly turned their attention back to the upcoming briefing. Lira seemed to have a natural authority about her, a presence that was natural.

'Not like Dakota's bloodthirstiness or battle-crazed expression, but more of a calm and natural one.'

I took a moment to observe Lira more closely. Her demeanor was calm and focused, but there were small traces that hinted at the activities she'd engaged in before arriving here.

Her boots were slightly scuffed, with a faint layer of dust clinging to the soles—likely from walking through an area that was less maintained, perhaps an older part of the city where the disturbances were most prevalent.

A few stray cat hairs clung to the lower hem of her trousers, and I noted a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips as if she had encountered something pleasant or familiar earlier—most likely a stray cat she had taken a moment to interact with.

Her hands rested lightly on the table, fingers slightly worn from the repetitive action of turning pages, and I noticed the faint ink stains on her left hand—a clear sign she was left-handed and had been taking extensive notes or drafting reports.

The subtle wearing on her fingers also suggested she frequently handled delicate materials or was used to precise, controlled movements—common traits for someone who practiced magic regularly.

The slight callus on her index finger reinforced this idea, indicating she was accustomed to wielding a quill or stylus, tools often used in the intricate work of spellcraft.

'Left-handed, a mage, and meticulous in her work and pays attention to how her upper body looks,' I concluded, appreciating the quiet efficiency she seemed to embody.

As I continued to study her, the door to the meeting room opened, drawing my attention. The second Adept, Mikhail Grayson, entered with a measured stride, his expression thoughtful but sharp as if his mind was constantly analyzing the world around him.

Mikhail was a stark contrast to Lira. Where Lira's presence was calm and steady, Mikhail carried an air of intense focus and quiet determination. His eyes, sharp and perceptive, took in the room with a glance, assessing everyone present in an instant.

There was a quiet confidence in his movements, a sign that he was someone who had seen his share of challenges and overcome them with methodical precision.

As he approached the table, I noticed the slight wear on the cuffs of his sleeves, a sign that he had been handling old documents—likely the historical records and local legends he had been investigating.

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There was a faint scent of parchment and aged leather that clung to him, a telltale sign of his time spent in archives or libraries, poring over texts that might hold the key to the mystery of Veilcroft.

Mikhail's right hand bore the subtle calluses of someone who was accustomed to both writing and more physical tasks—perhaps from handling tools or equipment in the field.

His posture was upright, but there was a slight tension in his shoulders, indicating that he was always ready to act and react to any sudden developments.

'Before entering the organization, there is a high chance that he was an antique smuggler. He is someone who doesn't leave things to chance,' I mused, noting the way his gaze briefly flicked over to the various data displays before settling on Shanks. 'He's thorough, calculating, and likely has a contingency plan for every scenario.' With Mikhail now seated, the room fell into a focused silence. The core team was assembled.

Shanks, who had been quietly observing the team as they settled in, finally cleared his throat, signaling the start of the briefing. "Now that everyone's here, let's begin."

The monitors around the room flickered to life, displaying various maps, charts, and reports that summarized the investigation's progress thus far. Shanks took his position at the head of the table, his expression serious as he addressed the team.

"Let's start with the reports. Anyone want to go first?"

Lira adjusted the documents in front of her and nodded, signaling that she would begin. The room fell into a focused silence as everyone turned their attention to her.

"Today….."

And then she started.